


hop in the corolla

by noobishere



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, M/M, Road Trips, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27008614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noobishere/pseuds/noobishere
Summary: “Oh dear,” Robbe’s mother cuts in. “You haven’t even started your trip and you’re already at each other’s throats.”Sander takes immense pleasure in the way Robbe’s eyes widen in panic, and before Robbe can even warn him with his glares, Sander is already saying, all too gleefully.“We’re always at each other’s throats.”(a.k.a sobbe's summer road trip)
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 40
Kudos: 193





	hop in the corolla

**Author's Note:**

> wasn't gonna write this because it's waaaaay past summer but when your very own personal hype girl entrusts you with [this](https://sander-klaas.tumblr.com/post/627449986092793856/sobbe-summer-travelroad-trip-moodboard-that-looks) idea, how the fuck do you say no. so everybody, say thank you fahmeen.
> 
> as is evident in the tag and the rating, there's smut, two scenes to be exact. i know i said i never wanted to attempt writing smut ever again, but obviously i lied, so again, proceed with caution. if you cringe, know that i cringed even harder when i wrote them

When he rings the doorbell, Robbe’s mother is the one who answers. She’s smiling at him, gentle and knowing, and Sander gives her his most charming smile.

“Ready to steal away my son?”

He’s about to respond when he hears excited heavy thumps, getting louder and louder the closer they get to the front door. Seconds later, Robbe appears, carrying a huge rucksack and a sling bag. Sander grins at the sight.

“What happened to travelling light?”

Robbe, who had a blinding smile on his face moments ago, immediately scowls. 

“Shut up, it’s _one_ bag.”

“One enormous bag,” he counters.

“Oh dear,” Robbe’s mother cuts in. “You haven’t even started your trip and you’re already at each other’s throats.”

Sander takes immense pleasure in the way Robbe’s eyes widen in panic, and before Robbe can even warn him with his glares, Sander is already saying, all too gleefully.

“We’re always at each other’s throats.”

“Okay!” Robbe pipes up, pushing past the front door. He swivels around to face his mother, deliberately slamming his huge bag against Sander. Sander stumbles a few steps back, snickering.

Deciding to give the two privacy, he drags Robbe's bag off his shoulders to stow it in the trunk of their rental car. Robbe shoots him a quick smile before he goes back to focusing on his mother. 

He heaves Robbe's bag with a loud wheeze, smiling when he hears Robbe snorting at his troubles, slams the trunk shut, and goes to wait inside the car. From the rearview mirror, he sees Robbe hugging his mother, no doubt whispering assurances to her. 

Sander tries not to feel too bad; he knows it's hard for Robbe to leave his mother but he also knows that they're both dying to go on this much needed trip. He smiles when the passenger door opens and Robbe pops his head in first with a huge grin on his face. 

"Hey there."

"Hey," Sander replies. He pouts when Robbe slinks into his seat and clicks on his seat belt. "What, no kisses for your trusty driver?"

Robbe rolls his eyes but moves closer anyway, leaning over the gear stick to plant a loud kiss on Sander's mouth. 

"You don't deserve a kiss after what you pulled just now," Robbe says, leaning in again for a longer kiss. Sander pulls him closer; tangles his fingers in the curls at the base of his neck, deepening the kiss. 

He feels more than sees Robbe reaching down to undo his own seat belt, so Sander pulls away, resting their foreheads together. When Robbe whines and stubbornly tries to move in for another kiss, Sander tightens the hold he has on Robbe's hair.

"Your mum can still see us."

Robbe stutters out a laugh before he trails into a soft sigh; eyes still closed as he leans fully into Sander, humming when Sander gently rubs a thumb over the line of his jaw. Taking a deep breath, Robbe pulls away. He twists his body around to look at his mother through the rear window.

Sander watches as Robbe waves at his mother, a solemn smile on his face. Waits until Robbe has had his fill, staring at his mother with his soft doe eyes, until he finally turns back and settles into his seat with a sigh that's more relieved than sad.

"Ready?" He asks, voice almost a whisper. 

A genuine smile blooms on Robbe's face as he looks at him in that way that takes Sander's breath away — like he'd hung the moon for this boy, which he would in a heartbeat, if he could, of course — and nods.

Sander clears his throat. He puts the gear into drive and yells at the top of his lungs, "Road trip, baby!"

Robbe laughs, whooping a second later.

***

Once they're on the highway, it doesn't take long for Robbe to root around his bag for his camera, filming the ride. 

"Day one of Sobbe taking over Europe," Robbe narrates, camera pointing towards the road.

"We're only crossing three borders, baby."

"Don't listen to the party pooper," Robbe says to his nonexistent audience. "We are now heading to a city that's cut into two by a long river that goes all over—"

Sander presses his lips together, suppressing his laughter as Robbe drones on about the place they're heading to. It's him who'd suggested the place to Robbe, thinking they should start easy, another city that's further down south instead of diving headfirst into camping grounds, like Robbe is dying to do. 

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you," Robbe pauses dramatically, "the best view."

Sander raises a brow. They're on a highway where the only view is, well, overgrown trees and a few cars. He turns to Robbe, curious, only to be confronted with the lens of his camera. He stares at it dumbly before he registers the cheeky smile behind it. Sander snorts, turning his attention back on the road. 

"Look at those chiseled cheekbones."

Sander grins.

"Oooh, and those adorable dimples."

The car slows down as Sander can't help but throw his head back and laugh. 

"And the best one yet, those crinkles by his eyes."

"Isn't that from a song?" Sander asks, still shaking with remnants of his laughter. 

"Sander!" Robbe gasps.

"What?"

"I didn't know you listen to Ed Sheeran."

"Who?"

"It's okay, baby," Robbe coos. "You can admit it, your image won't be tarnished, just a little skewed."

Sander is grinning so hard. "Sure."

"My favourite view," Robbe continues in his narrator voice, "that beautiful smile."

"Careful, baby. I might jump you this very moment if you don't stop," Sander jokes. 

"Maybe that's the point."

Sander tightens his grip on the steering wheel. This is a dangerous game they're playing and they haven't even been on the road for more than an hour. Sander schools his features, giving Robbe his best smirk. 

"Are you admitting on camera that you fantasize about having sex in the car?"

Robbe's mouth drops open in shock. Then, he splutters, fumbling with the camera to stop recording, all the while his cheeks are flaming red. 

"Asshole," Robbe grumbles.

"Prude."

Sander already knows how Robbe will react, grinning when he takes the bait and punches him on the shoulder.

"I'm not a prude!"

"Oh, baby, don't I know that."

Robbe huffs. "If you're this annoying when we're travelling, then I'm already looking forward to us living together."

Sander knows Robbe is joking, his voice is dripping with sarcasm, but he can't help the way his heart lurches. He swallows, tries to act all nonchalant but misses the mark by a fucking mile with the way his voice breaks mid sentence. 

"You want us to live together?"

Robbe stares at him, probably trying to see if he's being serious, and Sander must've been a lot less subtle than he'd originally thought because Robbe's face immediately melts into one of those sweet smiles he loves to give him.

"'Course I do," Robbe whispers. "Don't you?"

"Yeah," he says, sounding a little too breathless for his liking. "Yeah, I definitely want that."

Robbe beams at him, moving closer to drop a kiss on his shoulder, and Sander feels his entire body sing at that one innocent gesture. He returns the smile and says, "Imagine all the loud sex we can have."

Robbe slumps against his seat, giggling and shaking his head.

"I mean it!" Sander insists. "I love listening to you. The sounds you make, Robin."

"Shut up," Robbe says, sounding amused instead of annoyed. 

"No way, we're finally alone, _just_ the two of us." He waggles his brows at Robbe. "Come on, lay it on me. Tell me your deepest desires."

"Car sex."

"Definitely doable and mutual." Sander nods. "Next."

Robbe hums in thought. "Toys?"

Sander grimaces. "Ugh no. I need _you_ to get going, baby, not some stupid rubber."

Robbe throws his head and howls. "God, you are so embarrassing."

" _I'm_ embarrassing?" Sander gasps. "Look at you, going on a road trip with your _boyfriend_ of two years—"

"A year and eight months"

"—for three weeks. What does that say about _you_ , Robbe?"

From the corner of his eyes he can see Robbe snuggling into his seat, getting comfy.

"That I love you, you dork."

"Be still, my heart."

Robbe pokes at his knee with his bare toes. "Say it back."

He could downplay it all and lighten the mood, the way he always does when things get a bit too serious, but something about this moment in time — just the two of them confined in each other's space for the next few weeks, something they rarely get the chance of — calls for complete honesty.

Sander bites his lip, glancing over at Robbe who's waiting patiently, and breathes out a soft, "I love you too," before returning his focus on the road. He feels his skin prick at the way he can feel the weight of Robbe's gaze.

"You're blushing," Robbe points out. He sounds so pleased that Sander doesn't have the heart to deny him, so he shrugs in response.

Robbe whines. "I wanna kiss you so bad right now."

His lips twitch, heart fluttering as he peeks at Robbe. "I'm driving."

"So pull over."

Full on grinning now, Sander eases on the gas, slowing down the car and pulls over. Apparently he wasn't quick enough because as soon as he's pulled up the handbrake, he finds his seat being slid backwards, giving him more leg space, before he has a lapful of messy hair and grabby hands. 

"Whoa," he says, laughing softly, hands already finding purchase on Robbe's sides. "Easy, boy."

Robbe giggles, slapping his cheek lightly, and brushes their noses together, a teasing smile on his face. When Robbe's gaze drops to his lips though, all the playfulness disappears.

Sander swipes his tongue over his suddenly dry lips, feels his body overheat when Robbe mimics the movement, ears abuzz as he couldn't see past Robbe's mouth, couldn't hear anything other than their careful breaths. He tilts his head closer and runs the tip of his nose against Robbe's, delighting in the way Robbe's eyelids flutter closed, the corner of his lips curving into a soft smile. 

They haven't had a single quiet moment since this morning, so Sander takes a moment to just bask in the proximity. He revels in the way Robbe's thumbs are stroking his face, the touch gentle as he traces the slope of his cheeks before sliding down to the line of his jaw, pulling him closer so he could finally leave a soft kiss that has them both breathless.

Sander jerks his head back, just to see the look on Robbe's face; eyes still closed and lips slightly parted. He waits until Robbe blinks his eyes open, looking dazed, and smiles at him.

Red paints Robbe's cheeks but he doesn't shy away from his gaze. His hands now resting behind Sander's neck, fingers playing with his hair. 

"What?" Robbe asks, voice hoarse.

"Nothing." Sander starts running his palms over Robbe's thighs. "I just can't believe we're actually here."

Sander still remembers lockdown, how unprepared he was for the cruel reality of having to spend months away from his boyfriend. They were still fairly new, back then, and he'd struggled for weeks, missing Robbe, wishing they could do all the things he had planned for them. He had the hardest time when his brain started convincing him Robbe was faring way better than him, not missing him as much, not affected by his absence, and Sander still feels guilty when he thinks back to it. 

So when the lockdown was lifted, he'd proposed they travel together, half jokingly because he was scared of the possibility of being rejected. Maybe Robbe wouldn't want to, not wanting to leave his mother on her own, or maybe he wouldn't want to spend that much time with him without any excuse of retreating back to each other's own house at the end of the day. 

He'd tried to keep his cool, to not show his surprise when Robbe had answered with an excited _yes_ , without any hesitation. But when Robbe started listing off places they could visit together, things they could do together, Sander wasn't able to contain how truly happy he was, attacking Robbe with a tight hug.

The entire lead up to this trip was filled with a lot of stress. For Sander, mostly it's just battling with his thoughts and for Robbe with his endless exams and college applications. But as surreal as it is, they're finally here. 

"In the middle of nowhere?" Robbe teases.

Sander snorts. "That, too."

Robbe shuffles closer, knocking their foreheads together. "I don't wanna be anywhere else, you know."

And Sander melts completely, burying his nose in Robbe's shoulder, his arms tight around him. "God, I love you so much."

"I love you too," Robbe whispers. He presses his lips against his ear, then he drops kisses to whatever skin is closest. Sander tightens his hold, wanting to stay like this for as long as is allowed but Robbe starts to whine again. "Come on, kisses."

Sander grins, pressing one on Robbe's shoulder before pulling back. He puckers his lips, making smooching noises. Robbe laughs softly as he leans in, eyes on the target.

The kiss starts slow, with Robbe pecking him once before pressing their lips together, close-mouthed. But Robbe may have been a bit pent up because the next time their lips touch, he is already sucking on Sander's lower lip. Hands now tugging on his hair. 

Sander hums, loves it when Robbe just takes what he wants. He parts his lips, echoing Robbe's hunger, and licks into his mouth.

Robbe's soft moan echoes in the quiet space between them, so relatively loud and sudden that it's like a flipped switch. One moment they were kissing languidly, then the next they were grappling at each other. Robbe doesn't seem to know where to put his hands and Sander just wants him closer, pulling at any part that helps with achieving that. 

At one point, Sander surges forward, hands tight on Robbe's sides as he slams him against the surface behind him, forgetting where they are for a moment. 

Then a loud honk blares into the silence, echoing through the empty road, and shocking them both apart. 

They stare at each other, minds still fuzzy as they try to comprehend what just happened.

It starts off in small tremors, before they manifest on Robbe's face, in the twitching of his lips, and then Robbe dissolves into giggles, slumping against Sander's chest. Sander isn't doing much better once he realises where they are when they were doing what they were doing, muffling his laugh in Robbe's shoulder. 

"You know what's tragic about this whole thing?" Sander asks once they've both calmed down from their giggle fit. 

Robbe hums.

"I'll be stuck in this seat, driving, and you'll be there," Sander gestures to the passenger seat with a forlorn sigh. "So close yet so far."

"We can always take breaks."

Ever the sensible one. 

"But then it'll take longer to get to one place, and we've got places to be, Robin."

Robbe pulls back, eyebrows raised. "You don't like the idea of us just making out by the side of the road?"

"When you put it like that... "

"We'll take as many breaks as we want to," Robbe says in a low voice, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leans closer. Sander swallows, eyes immediately locked on Robbe's puffy lips. "You wanna know why?"

"Why?" he asks, distracted.

"Because we can do whatever we want." Robbe leans down, fits his cheek against Sander’s and whispers ever so softly, "It's just you and me, baby."

Sander lunges forward, clashing their mouths together in a searing kiss. This time, he rests his forearm against the steering wheel, cushioning Robbe's back as he leans against it. Without any interruptions, Sander isn’t sure how long they spend just kissing and holding each other, he doesn't really care. 

  
  


***

After four hours of driving to a place that should've only taken two, they finally arrive at their first location. It's a city by the valley surrounded by intimidating steep cliffs, one of which they're currently standing on.

Sander steps outside of the car, the sole of his converse crunching on the gravel below. He groans in relief, finally having room to stretch his limbs, and takes in the surrounding.

There aren't that many cars at the parking lot and he can see the entrance to the citadel from where he's standing. Beyond that is a terrace overlooking the city below. 

Sander has always been a fan of the aesthetics, it’s part of the many reasons why he wanted to come here. He’s seen the pictures — the contrast between nature and man-made constructions — but he has this strong need to see it with his own eyes, experience the beauty himself. 

And he isn’t disappointed when the mouth of the citadel comes into view. The entrance itself is already stunning: an arched hallway with high ceilings that he has to crane his neck to take it all in. He runs his fingers gently along the bricks lining the wall, tracing each one he passes, marvelling at the imposing structure, all the while aware of Robbe watching him closely. 

"You love it here, don't you?"

The tone of Robbe's voice has Sander turning towards him and he promptly loses his breath. 

There are times when Sander is overwhelmed by what he feels for Robbe that he's scared of what he'd end up doing, but there are also times when he's overwhelmed by Robbe's feelings and how he chooses to show it to him. It's often subtle, not as forward, but leaves him speechless nonetheless.

Robbe has that look in his eyes that makes it hard for Sander to look away. The way he can see literal stars in those deep brown orbs, staring straight at him, enveloping him like a warm blanket. 

Sander steps closer, slinging his arm over Robbe and tucking him snugly into his side. He buries his nose to the side of Robbe's head, sighing.

"I love it, and I love you."

Robbe slips an arm around his waist and drops a kiss to his shoulder. His reply comes in a muffled whisper.

"Sap."

Sander doesn’t mind, admits that he’s embarrassingly over the top with his words and actions but has no way of toning it down, simply because he _knows_ Robbe loves it. He especially doesn't mind because several minutes later he's the one throwing that word back at him. 

"And you called _me_ a sap."

Robbe glares at him through the camera that's poised on them and the view of the city below. 

"Couple pose, Robin. Really."

Not that Sander is opposed to that. Honestly, he's all about showing Robbe off but he's glad Robbe is the one who suggested it because now he has free rein to tease him. 

"Whatever." Robbe sniffs and swivels around. If there was ever a way to tell if someone is angrily snapping pictures of a picturesque landscape, then Robbe is a perfect example. He's pouting even as he grumbles about how pretty or cool everything looks, pressing the shutter with so much force he's probably going to end up with blurry images. 

"Admit it." Sander bumps their shoulders together, earning an annoyed huff. "You just wanna show off on insta."

"Yeah, so?"

"Nothing. I just love it when you do that." Sander grins. He strokes his chin, humming. "You're probably gonna write something like ' _The best view with the best man_ ,’" he pauses, smirking at his boyfriend whose cheeks are tinted red. "Am I right?"

Robbe shrugs. "At least I won't be putting any pretentious lyrics in the caption," he says, "oh and let's not forget the black and white filter."

"God forbid." Sander gasps.

"Come _on_ you idiot."

Sander laughs when Robbe resorts to whining and clinging to him. "Okay, okay."

The first pose is a bit bland in his opinion: their heads bent together, huge smiles on their faces.

"It's too boring," he says flat out. At Robbe's frown, he adds, "We look like those straight couples from one of those travelling blogs."

Robbe blinks at him. "That's… very specific."

"Look." He nods toward a couple at the far end, also taking a selfie. The guy is standing behind his girl, arms around her, and their cheeks are pressed together. 

"That's so cheesy…"

"Exactly. I love it." Sander turns to Robbe, face serious. "We're doing that, but better."

Robbe huffs a surprised laugh. "Okay."

Sander rearranges them, notes with glee how Robbe is very pliant as he does, imitating the pose the couple they just saw did. He pulls Robbe flush against his front, grins when Robbe wiggles around to get cosy against him. 

"Comfy?" He asks, nosing against Robbe's ear. 

"Mhm, very."

Robbe takes shots of them while Sander gives a few directions because aspiring videographer Robbe isn't exactly the best at photography just yet. 

And in the end Robbe captions his post with: _The best view with the best couple #wedoitbetter._ Sander obviously goes for the black and white aesthetics and matches his post with lyrics from the classics, just to take the piss.

_You know I love you but you drive me crazy_

_‘Cause you’re saying all the things I want to say to you_

***

  
  


"Day one of Sobbe's European tour," Sander narrates this time as he films, zooming in on one of the tyres that's sitting sadly in a puddle of its own rubber, "and we've already encountered the first bump on the road."

A snort comes a second later from the trunk where Robbe is emptying it to get to the spare tyre. "Very funny."

"Master of comedy, that's me."

He refocuses on Robbe's face, twisted in concentration as he drags the spare tyre out, a jack tucked precariously under his armpit. 

"How to change a flat tyre," Sander says. "That's the title of your next youtube video."

Robbe grunts in reply, too busy focusing on loosening the nuts on the tyre. He has both hands gripping tightly on the wrench, teeth clenched as he puts his body weight onto it, and shaking the whole car with his effort. Robbe adjusts his grip and shuffles closer. He takes a deep breath and tries again, huffing loudly. 

Robbe pushes his body against the wrench, again and again, trying to get the tightly screwed nut to budge just a bit, his hair bouncing off his head with the movement and getting into his eyes. Sander zooms in on his face, capturing the way his brows are furrowed in concentration, on the beads of sweat trickling down Robbe’s arm, highlighting the bunched up muscles in his bicep. Sander has never felt more grateful for a piece of steel ever. 

"Oh yes, work those muscles, baby."

Robbe doubles over with laughter, dropping the wrench in his surprise. He shakes his head as he sends Sander a stern look that's ruined by the smile that's still on his face. "Stop it, I can't concentrate."

It takes a while for him to change the tyre, as all beginners do — Robbe ended up having to step onto the wrench and jumping lightly onto it — but at least they didn't have to spend extra money on roadside assistance and Sander managed to get a lot of shots of Robbe looking like his personal wet dream.

"Voila!" Robbe announces happily. 

"Aww, it's over already." Sander pouts. "And here I thought I'd get to see some shirtless performance."

Robbe grins at him. "Secret fetish?"

"Care to indulge?"

Robbe tosses his sweaty towel at him. "Let's go, you idiot."

  
  


***

"Bed!" Sander dumps his bag and throws himself onto the bed. He sighs happily when he quite literally melts into it. "Soft."

Robbe laughs at him, pushing their bags to a safe corner where none of them would end up tripping over in the middle of the night.

"This bed is too small," Robbe points out.

Sander hums, already snuggling into the pillows. "Beggars can't be choosers."

They were supposed to go on a hike to the next village over, but they'd taken longer than expected to get here with the tyre and the pit stops that Sander had started getting antsy. It's only the first day still, but he's not used to driving for this long and seeing just a stretch of road for hours on end with maybe a car or two for company if he's lucky is making him go a bit stir crazy. 

When Robbe had noticed him fidgeting, he suggested they find a place to crash and spend the rest of the day just relaxing before they start their trek early next morning. Sander is honestly glad, because his back is aching and he just wants to lie down and not move. The urge only grew stronger when he drove through the small town to find this cosy little inn they're staying at, taking the cheapest room it has to offer for this unplanned overnight stay.

Everything about this room spells cheap: from the bust out bulb in one corner of the room to the mouldy carpet, not to mention the small bed that is meant for only one person. At least the view outside the window is nice, as expected from a place that's nestled within the mountains and littering the bends of a long, winding river.

And at least they get to sleep close tonight.

Sander looks on with glee as Robbe burrows his head into the mattress and digs his way into his arms, head popping up from under them with a huge grin that Sander returns, soft curls tickling his chin. He scoots back to give Robbe some room — Robbe immediately wrapping his arms around him, clinging — and swings his leg over him to pull him closer, away from the edge. Once they're both sure they wouldn't fall off, holding each other tight, they both sigh. 

Feeling the tell tale signs of sleepiness, Sander starts tracing mindless patterns on Robbe’s skin, starting from the top of his spine, trailing his fingers down each knob, to the small of his back, and up, repeating the motion.

“This is nice,” Robbe murmurs.

Sander hums. “You don’t mind?”

“Mind what?”

“That we’re lying down in bed instead of going on adventures?”

Robbe pulls back, studying him; gaze steady when moments ago he was half-asleep. “Of course not.”

The gleam that’s always there in Robbe’s eyes seems to be glowing even brighter, begging him to believe his words, and Sander is weak against those doe-eyes.

Robbe nuzzles against his collarbone with a soft little noise, leaving kisses there. “We have all the time in the world, don’t worry about it.”

“We have three weeks.”

Robbe pinches his ass. “We have three weeks, which is plenty of time. Now, sleep.”

Sander chuckles, squeezing him tight. “Okay.”

They drift off in the too small bed to the faint whispers of water gurgling in the stream.

It's still light outside when they wake up, groggy and hungry. The sun is hanging low in the horizon, late evening light seeping in through the gap between the curtains, casting long shadows. They spend the last hours of daylight strolling through narrow streets, taking pictures of old houses, eating at a charming three-seat diner, and saying hi to the cows they pass by.

For Sander, the highlight of their little stroll is when they find a spot by the river. His ass hurts from sitting on the gravels but the acoustic is well worth it. He closes his eyes and gets lost in the sounds of water burbling downstream, the soft grunts from the cows at the farm up ahead —if he strains his ears hard enough he can probably make out the cows' tails swishing lazily— and the occasional rustlings from the woods across them. He wonders what's it like, living here, getting to experience this every day.

He's a city boy through and through, loves the charming little nooks he's found over the years, back at home, between walls of concrete and asphalt, but this isn't so bad. 

A quiet place for his loud thoughts to simmer down. 

The gentle touch of a hand to his knee brings him back, and he turns to see Robbe staring at him with a soft smile adorning his lips. Sander knows what that look means, has had it directed at him many times throughout their time together, and it never fails to make his heart stutter. He leans in for a kiss, smiles when Robbe meets him halfway.

With the sun creeping lower, the sky painted in reds and oranges, and faint chirpings in the background, the setting is too perfectly romantic it's impossible to keep things short and chaste. Sander brings his hand up to the back of Robbe's head, holding him close as he deepens the kiss. 

Robbe responds by grabbing him by the collar, wanting closer still, and Sander obliges. He shuffles closer, jostling the rocks beneath as he shifts to face Robbe better, both hands now sinking into his curls. He echoes Robbe's soft moans as he licks into him, tasting every crevice of his mouth, never tiring of this, loving the way Robbe chases after him, again and again. 

Pushing onto his own knees as he moves closer, Robbe accidentally kicks a bunch of pebbles into the river in his haste. They break apart at the loud plop, fanning each other's face with breathy laughs. 

His fingers still tangled in Robbe's hair, Sander brings his thumbs forward, running them over Robbe's cheeks — washed in the sunset glow, ripples of water reflected on them — and murmurs, "You're stunning."

Robbe hums, nuzzling his palm. "You're not so bad yourself."

They end up hours just sitting close together by the riverbank, listening to the sounds of the water and watching the sky grow dark. 

When they wake up early the next day, right after the sun has risen, it's to complete stillness, save for the birds singing their morning call. 

Standing outside the inn, Sander breathes in the clean fresh air, reaching for the skies as he stretches to the tips of his toes, and exhales softly. Robbe redoes his laces and grips the straps of his bag, an excited smile on his face that Sander can't help reciprocate. 

"Ready?" Robbe asks. 

They walk up the short trail leading to the mouth of the woods, passing a stretch of green land and into the beckoning canopies of trees. As soon as they step inside, everything quiets; there’s barely any wind, but it’s cool and dark with the leaves overhead protecting them from the summer heat, and Sander smiles. 

For the first few minutes, they don't utter a single word, taking in the lush green around them — Sander has never seen so many shades of the same colour, he wishes he could have them all on his palette. They aren’t even taking pictures, plenty of time and distance (15 kilometres of it) to do that later.

The urge to snap pictures comes when he sees the way Robbe is tilting his head this way and that, sometimes walking backwards because his gaze is stuck on something fascinating deep in the woods and doesn’t want to look away just yet, his mouth open in _oohs_ and _whoas,_ looking like a child in a candy store. Sander finally gives in when they come to a pocket of clearing. 

It’s as if they’ve entered another world: the tree branches clear to form a circle of window for sunlight to pass through, shining onto the bed of tiny purple blossoms springing up among the green shrubs, fighting for attention. In one of the streams of light, he sees specks of dust floating around, and his fingers itch.

Sander turns to see Robbe's reaction and feels the air knocked out of him. Robbe’s eyes are wide and glittering, mouth open in awe, completely taken by the scene in front of him. The sun seems to love Robbe just as much as Sander, beaming down on him like a spotlight, his long lashes painting shadows over his face. Oblivious to his stares, Robbe takes a step closer to one of the small flowers, brushing his fingers against them lightly, lips curving up so slightly, Sander’s heart aches at the sight. 

He slowly raises his camera and presses the shutter button, hoping he manages to capture Robbe and his otherworldly beauty, and if he does, hoping the picture does it justice.

Robbe blinks when he hears the click of his camera, lifting his head and looking at him curiously. Whatever face Sander is making, Robbe seems enamoured by it, eyes gentle as he shoots him a smile. 

“Come here.”

Sander complies, walking up to him, a bit dazed, especially when Robbe’s lips stretch into a wider smile. Robbe closes a hand around his, the one that’s still cradling the camera in a lax hold, and tugs gently.

“Why are you only taking pictures of me?” 

“Because you’re pretty,” Sander says, matter of fact.

Robbe scoffs, cheeks red. “But you always do that. I want pictures of _us._ ”

Clenching his teeth to fight off the sudden shyness, Sander jokes halfheartedly. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the view.”

“You won’t,” Robbe insists. “You’re making it a hundred times better.”

Sander can’t resist a kiss at that, so he plants one on Robbe’s cheek, trying to push down the lump in his throat. He breathes out a laugh when Robbe pulls him in for a proper kiss. When they break apart, Robbe’s eyes flit over his face, searching for something, and Sander knows Robbe is aware something is off but is grateful when he only smiles at him, giving him more time to sort through things on his own.

He lets Robbe turn him around; feels Robbe pressing his chest into his back, a reassuring weight, before he tucks his chin on Sander’s shoulder. 

Taking in a deep breath, Sander holds it in for a few seconds before letting it out slowly, willing himself to relax fully. He flips the camera around, pointing the lens towards them. There’s no way of telling if he’s got the field of purple flowers in the shot, only when he develops the films will he know, but Sander’s had a lot of practice and is pretty confident that he’s got the angle right.

Before he snaps the picture, Robbe murmurs a soft, “Smile,” and Sander tilts his head back to look at him, is about to open his mouth to say something, but Robbe reaches over and presses the button in his stead.

Sander stares, stunned by the flash. Robbe giggles, digging his nose into the back of his neck to muffle it out, which has Sander blinking his eyes rapidly into focus. He turns back around to find the camera at a wonky angle, no thanks to Robbe.

“That wasn’t even in the shot,” he says, half laughing.

Robbe pulls on an _oops_ face and shrugs. “Got you to smile.”

He feels his heart squeeze and sighs in defeat, thumping his head against Robbe’s shoulder. “Stop being so cute.” 

It takes Sander a minute to compose himself, with Robbe patiently waiting, swaying them gently from side to side. He clears his throat once his heart starts beating at a regular pace, adjusts the camera and clicks, taking several photos, just in case.

Robbe starts taking pictures too, of him, of the flowers and the greens; he seems to really like the purple blooms, the way he’d snap a shot of them, check his camera, smile, and then repeat. He even says bye to them when they continue on with their hike.

Back into the woods, under the boughs of the trees, they come to a bit of an incline. Robbe has already taken a piece of stray wood to support his weight as he climbs over the maze of roots and uneven soil while Sander gets distracted by a bed of pebbled rocks with a tiny stream weaving between them, watching it in a trance before he snaps out of it, Robbe calling him over at a higher ground.

“This kinda reminds me of that ghibli movie,” Sander says once he’s reached Robbe. His gaze still locked on the tiny stream, his body turned towards it.

Robbe hums from behind him, seeming to have caught on to what has gotten his attention. “Which one?”

Sander shrugs, turning to Robbe with the most pleasant smile he could muster. “Don’t remember. Let’s go.” He presses on forward, leaving Robbe behind. “Keep close, baby,” he calls out over his shoulder when Robbe just stands there, nonplussed. “You don’t wanna get spirited away.”

He grins when Robbe splutters, counts down in his head when he hears hurried footsteps. 

_Three, two, one._

A shove on his back, and then Robbe is grumbling under his breath. “Asshole.”

"Hey, now, you don't want to anger the spirits with your foul language."

"Oh fuck off." Robbe shoves him again, but his voice disrupts the stillness of the forest, scaring off the birds. The sound of their wings flapping as they fly away is so sudden and loud that Robbe yelps, grabbing at Sander's t-shirt.

Sander howls, shaking the whole damn forest and the proceeding journey is accompanied by Robbe cursing Sander under his breath as he stomps away. 

A third of the way in, Sander sees another clearing peeking through the dense leaves, and as they step out of the forest and onto gravel road, they see civilization again.

Well, they see a stretch of barbed wire fence lining one side of the road, with a few cows grazing behind it. He can make out a building far off on a hill, but that’s about it. There are no other people around them, and Sander prefers it that way.

Robbe coos at a calf that’s strayed close to the fence, looking at them curiously. Sander watches on, amused at the way Robbe is half-squatting to level his eyes to the baby cow, as if he’s talking to a small child. 

“Come on, cowboy,” he teases, tugs gently on Robbe’s ear as he comes up behind him. “Stop fawning over the cow and let’s get moving.”

Ignoring him, Robbe takes a few pictures of the calf that's now preening at the attention. 

“You know...” Sander bends down next to Robbe, considering both him and the baby cow. His gaze goes back and forth between the two of them, both tilting their heads, waiting for him to elaborate. “You guys actually look alike.”

Robbe frowns at him. “What.”

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” he points out. “And you guys are both tiny.” He makes kissy noises to the baby cow that’s now sniffing inquisitively at him. He snorts when it grunts at him. “Cute.”

He pats his knees as he straightens up, looking at Robbe expectantly. “Ready?”

Robbe stares at him incredulously, shaking his head as he laughs helplessly. “I can’t believe you just said I look like a cow.”

Sander barks out a laugh, not expecting Robbe to take it that way. “Hey, it’s supposed to be a compliment.”

“Well, try harder.”

He stops in his tracks, swivelling around to level Robbe with a look. “I would, but then you’ll get all hot and bothered.”

Robbe crosses his arms with a huff, turning his chin up defiantly. “You like it when I’m all hot and bothered.”

"You're right, I do." Sander approaches him slowly, smirking when Robbe drops his arms to the side as he gets closer. He scuffs his shoes against the gravel, and Robbe tenses in response, fingers twitching. Sander stands close, the toes of his converse against Robbe’s, watching him through his lashes. Trailing the back of a finger against Robbe’s knuckles, Sander’s lips quirk when he notices Robbe is staring openly at his mouth through droopy eyelids. 

He leans in slowly, aiming for Robbe's mouth but detours at the last second, pressing a kiss at the corner instead, right at the point where the upper and bottom lips meet, where the skin is thin; Robbe stutters out a shaky breath. Sander whispers against the wet spot he left there. “But not in front of the baby.”

Robbe swallows, voice rough as he demands, “One kiss and a sorry.”

Sander obliges happily; runs his tongue against Robbe’s bottom lip, pushing it past his mouth when he parts it in a soft gasp, lapping at the rough surface of Robbe’s tongue. Robbe shoots a hand at his waist, gripping tightly as he lets him lead the kiss, moaning softly. 

Feeling greedy, Sander brings a hand up to cradle Robbe’s face, running the pad of his thumb gently down the line of his jaw before pressing it down on Robbe’s chin, forcing the boy to open his mouth wider. Sander dives into it, swallowing down Robbe’s soft mewls with a growl of his own, slowly losing his mind. He jerks back abruptly when he feels familiar heat simmering low in his stomach, the first sign of things getting a bit too hot for the place they’re currently in.

Robbe whines at the loss, chasing after him, but Sander tightens his hold in warning. 

“Later,” he promises, appeasing Robbe with a kiss on the forehead.

Robbe breathes out a forlorn sigh, licking his lips before he opens his eyes to stare up at him through thick lashes. “Okay.”

Sander wants to tease Robbe for always letting him off so easily, willingly lets himself get distracted by kisses and promises of sex, but he’s scared that if he points that out, Robbe might restrain himself again — the way he always does when he feels self-conscious or insecure — so he pecks Robbe one last time on the mouth and smiles at him. “Okay.”

Robbe casts one last glance at the baby cow and pulls at his hand, dragging him away and into the next forest.

Sander fits their palms together, wrapping his fingers around Robbe’s. He knows it’s impractical to keep close like this, but until he has to let go, he holds on, and judging by the knowing smile Robbe shoots him, he knows the feeling is mutual.

He does, however, breathe a dramatic sigh when the time to let go comes, all because Robbe wants to take pictures of another pretty flower.

They've been walking for two hours and Sander has lost count of the amount of time Robbe would excitedly cry out when he sees something pretty. Like the quaint little chateaus nestled between the trees and the multiple flowers that Sander couldn't possibly name for the life of him — some in shades of blue, hot pinks and even bright yellows, some growing in patches on the ground and some hanging low from the branches of trees. At one point, when the trail they're on was right next to the stream, they saw an honest to god swan, majestic in its beauty, floating by. 

More than the pretty things they keep seeing, Sander is more entranced by Robbe, the way his face lights up, every time, and then scrunches as he tries to get his camera to focus on something. Sander himself has gone through three rolls of films because of that, not that he minds — there's never enough pictures of his boyfriend, no matter how many times said boyfriend complains otherwise. 

He’s used up another roll and is changing the cartridge, carefully feeding the ends of the new roll of film into the take-up spool, when he hears Robbe’s gasp. When he looks up to see where the boy is, Sander can only make up his silhouette, unmoving as he stands at the edge of the forest.

Sander closes his camera and carefully approaches Robbe, curious as to what’s caught the other’s attention. The closer he gets to him, where the trees stop, giving way to stones and pebbles and rushing water, the brighter it gets. Sander instinctively brings a hand up to shield his eyes against the blinding sun once he steps onto loose pebbles instead of tree roots. 

Blinking away the white spots behind his eyes, he lowers his hand and the first thing he sees is the sparkling surface of the river. Instead of the small streams they’ve encountered multiple times, this part of the river is much wider, water tumbling against large rocks that disrupt its flow, and where the water is deep and calm, tiny white blossoms litter the surface, thin stalks undulating with the current. 

A particularly loud chirp has him lifting his head to find the source, only to be confronted by the looming mountains beyond the green meadow from across the river. He sucks in a sharp breath.

While Sander has had his many excursions back home, constantly searching for any forms of beauty to capture and be captivated with — and he’s found many spots that he holds dear, but there’s only so much one city can offer — nothing compares to what he’s seeing right now.

He pivots on his heels, slowly turning to take everything in, his fingers twitching around his camera. He once hated the feeling of being enclosed in on all four walls, feeling no escape, but he’s slowly come to find comfort in them, in the way they give him relief to be just Sander. With the mountains towering on one side and the forest surrounding him on the other, he feels strangely at home. 

Dead centre of it all, is Robbe, watching him with eyes so tender Sander loses his breath.

And it hits him again, this dreamlike trip is actually real. He’s right here with Robbe, who’s looking at him like he’s painted this very scene for him.

“What are you doing, so far away?” He croaks, reaching a hand out to Robbe, who immediately steps closer, taking his hand in his own, like he’s been waiting for Sander’s permission. As if Sander would ever reject his touch.

He pulls Robbe in his arms, buries his nose into Robbe’s neck and just breathes him in. Robbe winds his arms around him, rubbing a hand up and down his back soothingly, always so gentle even when he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on in Sander’s head.

They’re swaying back and forth, following the breeze that’s picked up; to the sounds of leaves rustling, the water lapping and the birds singing, Robbe breaks the momentary silence.

“What’s going on up there?” Robbe's question is muffled against his shoulder, whispered.

Sander swallows down the ‘ _I don’t know’_ , instinctual, not because he doesn’t trust Robbe with his thoughts, but because he doesn’t want to burden him with how silly they are. It comes from his own insecurities, ones that he needs to work out on his own, instead of making Robbe feel bad about them if he can’t help ease his worries.

“Just... feeling a bit overwhelmed,” he says anyway, knowing full well that not talking it out is going to lead to something worse.

Robbe hums. “Good overwhelmed, or bad overwhelmed?”

“Mostly good.”

“That’s good.”

Sander hides his face further into Robbe’s neck, picks through his brain. “Have you ever felt like you’re seeing your life through someone else’s eyes?”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“I feel like that, with you.” 

Robbe pulls back, frowning. “What do you mean?”

Sander runs his hands over Robbe’s shoulders before he cups his face — Robbe’s fingers coming up to squeeze his wrists — and presses their foreheads together. “We’ve been together for almost two years,” he says, his head moving along with Robbe’s nod. “Fuck, I’ve had multiple breakdowns. How are you _still_ with me.” 

He chokes on an inhale when the fingers around his wrists tighten. “You’re _right_ _here_. With me.”

“Hey.” Robbe nudges his nose against his, makes him look him in the eyes. “I told you, I don’t wanna be anywhere else.”

“Where?”

“With you, silly.”

Sander ducks, trying to hide his smile. “Yeah, I know. Just wanted to hear that.”

“And I’ll tell you the same thing, over and over again,” Robbe says. “Because it’s not gonna change.”

Sander peeks at him, searching his eyes and sees only certainty. He asks anyway, because he loves hearing it. “Not even after three weeks?”

And he loves it even more when Robbe squishes his cheeks, shaking his head gently as he assures him. “Not even after that.”

Sander leans in to peck him, smiling when he pulls back. “Okay.”

Because Robbe is a sweetheart, he pulls him down to sit by the riverbank, just like they did the day before, and leans into him. They stay there for long minutes, basking in each other’s presence, and Sander doesn’t think it would get any better than this.

  
  


***

It _does_ get better when they finally arrive at their destination, the village that’s exactly 15.3 kilometres away, a journey that would’ve taken them probably 10 minutes by car instead of three hours on foot.

They cross the bridge to get to it and immediately spot the hideous golden Peugeot that is their rental car. The owner of the inn they stayed at offered to bring their car here, parked at their hotel for the night, for a price, obviously, but Sander didn’t mind at all. 

Especially when his legs feel like they’re about to fall off, the soles of his feet throbbing from all the trekking, he’s lost feeling in them. He’s grateful for the working elevator taking them up to their room on the third floor.

He’s even more grateful when he opens the door. Compared to the inn, this hotel is a vast improvement because as soon as he walks in, he’s hit with the cool air from the AC, but most of all he sees the huge bed. The riverview outside the double-door windows isn’t so bad either.

Robbe falls face first onto the bed, with his bags and everything. He lets out a tired groan and rolls over, then he starts rolling around, from one end to another. “Fuck yessss.”

“Thank you, Sander,” Sander sing-songs.

He was the one who booked this room, obviously. If it were up to Robbe, they’d be sleeping in the car the entire trip, _all about that budget life_ he’d say, but Sander had been adamant about splurging on a comfortable room after long hours of hiking.

Robbe hums, conceding with a smile on his face. “Thank you, Sander.”

Pleased, Sander starts taking off his sweaty clothes, leaving a trail of them on his way to the bathroom. 

There, in all its glory, the main reason why he chose this room, is the huge bathtub. 

He goes straight to it, turning on the faucets to fill it up before ducking under the shower for a perfunctory wash, ridding himself of the grit and grime from the day’s event. His head isn’t as loud as it was, appeased after that cathartic hike, but now he’s physically drained, sore in parts he never knew he _could_ be sore, his body is screaming for some reprieve.

Shower done, he sinks into the tub, breathing out heavily through his nose as he feels his muscles relax in the scalding water. He reclines, pressing his back to the wall of the bathtub and rests his head against the rim. He reaches one leg out for the faucet, shutting it off with his toes, leaving the water level just up to his chest. Everything quiets except for the sounds of water dripping, echoing off the walls of the bathroom.

Sander must have dozed off for a second, because when he comes to, the water is sloshing, lapping at his chin and almost coming up his nose. He grunts, disoriented, but then he sees a naked ass right in front of him and he ends up smiling goofily at Robbe who’s looking at him over his shoulder, lips stretched into a knowing smile.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise,” Sander croaks, still sleepy and exhausted. He sits up, props up his knees and spreads them to accommodate Robbe — humming in delight when Robbe leans all of his weight into him, pulling at his arms to wrap them around himself, never mind that a lot of water has spilled out of the tub with the added weight. 

He brushes his lips against Robbe’s neck, chasing away the beads of water from the shower he must’ve taken, littering the skin that’s not submerged. When there’s no more, he cups a handful of hot water and pours it over the same spot, watching it trickle down to the slope of Robbe’s shoulder and back into the tub. He follows the trail with his eyes, then traces it with his index finger, gently running the pad of it down the skin.

Robbe sighs, lolling his head to the side, giving Sander more room to do as he pleases. 

And Sander does just that; he nuzzles behind Robbe’s ear, breathing in the scent of hotel shampoo, and kisses the shell of his ear. When he gets an appreciative hum, he leaves another kiss before moving down to press more down the line of Robbe's neck, to his shoulder. Revelling the way Robbe melts into him further, and repeats the motion. 

He litters the path with open mouthed kisses, tongue peeking out to lap at warm skin. When he gets to the juncture between neck and shoulder, right where he knows Robbe is sensitive, he gently scrapes his teeth against the skin there; marvels at the red lines that appear, fitting his mouth over the skin as the marks rapidly disappear, chasing them with another nibble, another lick, another kiss. 

Robbe moans low in his throat, a shiver running up his whole body, breath heavy as he clasps his fingers around Sander’s wrist, and pushes the hand down between his legs. Sander complies, not one to ever deny Robbe, especially when he blatantly asks to be touched.

Goosebumps start to rise on both their skins as the water turns noticeably tepid, but they’re too engrossed by the sight of water rippling around Sander’s hand moving languidly up and down Robbe’s length.

“When we get a place together,” Sander murmurs. “It has to come with a bathtub.”

Robbe laughs under his breath. “Why, got some big plans with that?”

Sander tightens his grip, pulling harder, rubbing his thumb against the ridge under the head. “Great plans.” 

Craning his neck, Robbe presses his parted lips against Sander’s, shuddering out a sigh. “Tell me.”

Sander sucks in a sharp breath when he feels Robbe dipping his tongue inside his mouth, answers with a lick of his own, sucking on it. It doesn’t matter that the water is turning rapidly colder the longer they stay in, this is enough to make him overheat: the slick slide of their tongues pushing in and out of each other’s mouth loud in the midst of water slapping against skin and porcelain. 

Robbe twists around, enough so he could blindly hook his fingers over the back of Sander’s neck, pulling him closer. When Sander feels Robbe part his lips and leave them ajar, he plunges in; fucking his mouth with his tongue to the rhythm of his hand on Robbe's dick, loving the low guttural moan he gets in response. 

Sander pulls back with a sigh, drunk on the sounds they’re making, rests his forehead against Robbe’s face and peppers kisses wherever he could reach. He loosens his grip, leaving it lax, a familiar move, and sure enough Robbe starts pushing his hips into his fist.

Robbe is looking at him through half-lidded eyes, letting out all kinds of noises, knowing that’s what he likes to hear, the confirmation that his boyfriend is enjoying this just as much, and Sander feels his skin prickles, the way it always does whenever he feels as seen as he does at the moment.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathes. 

He splays his fingers over Robbe’s lower stomach, halting his lazy thrusts. When Robbe makes a soft confused noise, Sander strokes him, root to tip, circling his thumb on the head, coming away with a string of precum that gets washed away by the splash of water. 

“Imagine getting to do this all the time,” he starts, voice husky.

Robbe leans his head fully against him, his fingers still in his hair, massaging his scalp.

“What, taking a bath together?”

Sander laughs under his breath. “Yeah, and other stuff.”

“Stuff?”

Sander watches in a trance as the water gently undulates with his slow strokes, the circle of his fingers gliding up and down Robbe’s dick, the head peeking above the surface, glistening with precum and water. He can feel the muscles on Robbe’s lower stomach quivering with how much he’s holding off, already on the precipice, his own dick twitching in response.

“Like this,” he says, squeezing Robbe tighter on the upstroke, twisting his fist over the tip, loving the way Robbe is left gasping at the sudden pick up on the pace. They aren’t going to last, both sore from the hike, so he’s just speeding up the process a little bit.

“You and me,” Sander continues, licking at the skin on Robbe’s neck. “Taking our time.” He pulls his hand away from Robbe’s stomach, hooking it under his thigh, and pulling it against his chest. “Maybe spread you out like this.” His other hand leaves Robbe’s length, reaching down to trace the tips of his finger against the puckered skin of his rim. “Fuck you with my fingers first.”

Robbe’s breath hitches, reaching down to stroke himself.

“Might be a good idea to have lube in the toilet, though,” he jokes, smiling when he hears Robbe’s answering laugh. 

Lifting Robbe up slightly, Sander lays his legs down onto the floor of the tub and plops Robbe down onto them, right on his dick. Robbe hums, immediately moving back, rubbing up against him as he continues stroking himself. 

Sander leans forward, plastering his chest against Robbe’s back, props his chin on his shoulder — kissing and licking as he watches Robbe touching himself — his hands against his hips as he guides Robbe back against him.

The sound of water spilling over the tub and crashing onto the tiles is loud, mixing in with their harsh breathing, they’d definitely have to dry the floor with towels later. Sander doesn’t really care, wishing he could actually take things further, but he didn’t bring in lube with him, only expecting to take a bath with Robbe, thinking they’d both be too tired for this.

He muffles his snort against Robbe’s damp skin.

He’s pulled back into the moment when Robbe suddenly stands on his knees, leaving his front cold and bereft. He’s about to complain, but then Robbe turns around to face him, careful not to slip as he shuffles closer, hands anchored on Sander’s shoulder and neck. He grins when Robbe doesn’t stop there, plops his ass on his lap and wraps his legs around his waist, hugging him close.

Their hard dicks both lay side by side on Sander’s stomach. Sander wraps his fingers around the both of them and pulls, his pace steady, his other hand reaching between Robbe's ass cheeks to rub his fingers teasingly against his rim. Robbe is slumped over him, completely given up, leaving Sander to fend for them both as he moans helplessly in his ear — and Sander fucking loves it when Robbe gets like this.

“You close?” He asks, voice rasp.

The frantic nodding is enough for Sander to quicken his pace. He feels like he’s drowning in their breathy moans, made louder as they bounce off the walls and the tiles, in the heat that’s simmering low in his stomach, in the way he can hear his heart thumping in his ears, in the way Robbe keeps calling out his name in broken syllables. 

Sander finally breaks when he feels Robbe throbbing one last time before he freezes and shudders, a cloud of white bursting in the cooled water, Robbe’s teeth sunk into his shoulder as he muffles out his moan, and then he’s gone too. 

Robbe is the first one to pull back, a content sigh leaving his lips. Sander still feels a bit loopy, arms and legs heavy, like he’s floating underwater, which he probably is. He’s aware of Robbe laughing at him, of deft fingers pulling at him to stand up. He lets Robbe pull him under the showers, rinsing off one last time. Purs happily when Robbe towels him dry, giggling as he teases him for being lazy.

Sander's too tired to point out that he was the one who did all the work, lets himself be dragged to the bed. 

Sander is lying half on top of Robbe, with his head tucked under Robbe’s chin, and he loves this too. Loves it when Robbe holds him, leaving absent kisses in his hair, on the side of his head, his face, lulling him to sleep.

The last thing he hears before he completely falls asleep is Robbe’s soft ‘I love you,’ barely able to squeeze him back in reply.

  
  


***

The sky is completely clear of clouds, making it extremely hot and hard on the eyes. Intense sunlight glares off the windshield and into Sander's eyes, straining them as they try to navigate the empty road ahead. 

Despite having the recipes of a bad day brewing, with sweat trickling down his back, t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin, the sunny day does nothing to Sander's equally bright mood.

Which is made even brighter with Robbe humming along to the tinny tune from their shared playlist, comfortably slouched halfway down his seat and scrolling through his camera roll. He'd snicker and tilt the display screen towards him to show a funny shot. There's a hint of colour high up on his cheeks, the kind of glow one would have only when one has gotten laid.

And gotten laid, they both did. Sander grins at the memory of yesterday's bath

There's a momentary lull that comes with the change of a song track before a familiar tune of an electric guitar reverberates through the speakers, and Sander beams. He cranks up the volume just in time for the first drum beats to accompany the guitar riffs. He bops his head to the beat and drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Robbe trying to subtly film him. He grins, growling out the first verse, shocking Robbe into a fit of giggles.

He shoots Robbe a wink, changing the female pronouns. "He was the best damn man that I _ever_ seen."

Sander tries his best to be as entertaining as he can, convulsing to _the walls start shaking_ whilst literally shaking the car. Robbe is giggling like crazy, hands shaky as he tries valiantly to get everything on film.

"You," Sander croons, having given up on mimicking the raspy singing style. Then he throws his head back, closing his eyes as he sings at the top of his lungs. "Shook me _all_ _night_ long."

Robbe slumps against his seat, letting out a tired but content breath. When Sander mouths _mine, all mine_ to him, Robbe rolls his eyes, even though his lips are permanently stretched into a smile. 

"Was last night really that good?" Robbe teases. 

"The best."

"You always say that."

"Because it's always good," he insists. 

"Even the sloppy ones?"

"Especially the sloppy ones."

"Even the ones when one of us finishes too early?" Robbe presses. 

"My fucking favourite."

Robbe looks at him, sceptical. When Sander presents him with an innocent smile, he laughs under his breath, shaking his head. "You're so full of shit."

"Guitar solo," Sander pipes up, head banging to the high pitched chords, Robbe's loud laughter echoing through. 

  
  


***

"You gotta be joking." 

Sander looks up the set of steps with dread. Robbe is jumping on the balls of his heels next to him, recording. 

"Come on, it's a tourist spot." Robbe points the camera at him, "We're tourists," then back to the stairs, and concludes, "We should definitely do this."

"I'm not climbing to my death."

"You're not gonna die," Robbe protests. "Unless you're severely asthmatic, which you're not."

Sander keeps quiet. Maybe if he does that long enough, Robbe will give up and forget about it. 

"Come on," Robbe coaxes. "We literally hiked through a fucking forest for three hours."

"That's completely different," he argues. "We had beautiful, lush greens for company. The view was amazing and I felt a sense of connection. _Peace_. This?" He stares at the endless steps. "Zero appeal."

Sander squints, trying to see if he can get a good look of the top. He can't really see anything beyond steps and more steps — apparently there's 374 of them — and a few people ascending and descending. His throat is already parched just watching them.

"What do I get out of this?"

"Bragging rights." 

Sander shakes his head, already knowing that he's doing this. He can't ignore a challenge even if his life depends on it, and the fact it came from Robbe makes it all the more alluring. 

"This isn't gonna be pretty," he says, taking the first few steps into his ascent. 

Robbe blows him a kiss. "You're always pretty to me."

Robbe skips up a few steps and starts narrating the story behind the stairs to the camera. "This is a war monument to honour the fallen soldiers—"

Sander tunes him out, focusing on regulating his breathing. Inhaling every two steps, exhaling after another two. He'd thought about counting down the steps as he goes higher but he realises that's only going to make the journey more daunting.

Five minutes in and he can feel his legs burning, lifting them up to climb the steps feels like treading through sludge; they have never felt this heavy. 

"Aww, is the old man getting tired already?" Robbe coos from somewhere above him. 

"Fuck off."

Sander is leaning against the railing, taking deep breaths to stop the nausea. He's starting to feel his legs again when he hears footsteps coming closer and a hand gently rubbing at his lower back. 

"Hey, you okay?" Robbe sounds worried, as he should.

He wants to ignore him, but the way Robbe is stroking his back is helping him calm down so he offers him a small smile. 

"A kiss for the rest of the journey?"

Robbe cradles his face, indulging him with a soft smile, and leaves a sweet kiss on his lips. 

"Wow," Sander breathes out, standing up a little straighter. "Magical kisses do exist. I'm completely energised."

Robbe rolls his eyes, leaning in for another kiss. Sander lets him, watching the way Robbe's eyelids droop the closer he gets. When they're literally a breath apart, he pulls away. 

"Race you," he says in a rush, sprinting up the steps as he leaves Robbe stunned. Laughing out loud when an indignant ' _hey!'_ comes a second later. He turns around to see Robbe looking determined to chase after him. 

They both race up the stairs yelling at each other and laughing. Judging by the growing numbness to his feet, Sander is going to regret this. 

"Fuck," he wheezes once they're on top. "I can't feel my legs."

He crawls over to the bench, heaves himself up with a loud groan, and slumps on to it. Robbe comes crashing into him a second later.

They're still panting when Robbe unlocks his phone and opens his front camera, recording themselves.

"So," Robbe starts, breathing harshly. "We just finished—"

"Having sex," Sander interrupts. 

Robbe bursts into breathless giggles. "Right, we just had sex on these stairs," he says, switching to the rear camera, getting a shot of the length of the steps they'd just climbed. "Now we're drenched in sweat from our passionate love making."

Sander huffs in amusement, resting his head on Robbe's shoulder. He lets out a low whistle as he takes in the view of the city below. He can make out the winding paths through the city, the old quirky houses and the high rise buildings from afar melting into the skyline and the river beyond. 

"You know what I don't look forward to?"

"What?"

Sander sweeps a hand in front of him. "Going back down."

"I mean our hotel is somewhere down there, so we have to."

Sander throws his head back, whining petulantly. 

"Hey, at least it means no more driving for today," Robbe tries, nudging him gently. Sander remains unmoved, his legs still feeling like jelly. 

"Fine." Robbe sighs. Sander peeks at him curiously. "I'll carry you."

He perks up at the offer. "Really?"

Robbe kneels in front of him, patting his back invitingly. "Hop on."

Sander winds his arms around Robbe's shoulders, clasping his wrists together over Robbe's chest. Robbe grunts exaggeratingly loud when he stands, his hands hitching Sander's legs higher on his hips. 

"You're not gonna drop me are you?" Sander jokes, nuzzling against Robbe's neck. 

"Don't worry, you weigh like a twig, baby." Even as Robbe says that, he's wobbling on his feet, so Sander locks his ankles together. 

"In that case, giddy up."

Robbe barks out a surprised laugh before tightening his grip on Sander's thighs. "Hold on tight." 

Then he dashes down the stairs, two steps at a time, hollering a war cry that Sander follows suit with his own cheers. Their voices echoing through, bouncing off the walls and stones. It doesn't matter that people are staring, they're tourists anyway, no way of them being recognised other than as _two obnoxiously loud white boys,_ but Sander wouldn't have it any other way. 

  
  


***

"Don't look yet," Sander murmurs. Robbe peers at him from over the menu, eyebrows raised in question. Sander pretends to browse through his own menu as he says under his breath, "I think the waitress has the hots for you."

Robbe groans. "Are you sure?"

A quick look over Robbe's shoulder confirms that the waitress with the cat-ears headband is definitely eyeing his boyfriend. Sander presses his lips together to suppress his smile.

"Affirmative, she's been staring at your ass since the moment you walked in."

Red blooms high on Robbe's cheeks. He leans over the table, hissing, "This isn't funny!"

"I'm not laughing," Sander replies, his voice is shaky, throat trembling as he withholds his laughter. He sees a flash of red, the staff's signature apron, approaching their table, and sobers up, sitting up straighter as he coughs out a warning. "Incoming."

Robbe stiffens when the waitress stands at their table, giving him her full attention, her body very obviously turned towards Robbe, ignoring Sander — who notes with glee the disapproving frown on Robbe's face at that. 

"Ready to order?" She asks, voice sickeningly sweet. 

Robbe locks his eyes with Sander's, his voice steady as he asks, nonchalant, "What do you want, baby?"

It isn't so much the term of endearment that gets to him, because that's how they normally address each other, but more the way Robbe had said it, so blase and in your face, leaving no question as to who Sander is to Robbe. And Sander would've winced in pity on behalf of the waitress, but he's too busy drinking in the way Robbe is looking at him.

Sander swallows. He points at a random dish and hears the scribble of pen against paper.

"And you?" The waitress' voice is noticeably subdued, disappointed, as she directs the question to Robbe. 

"Whatever he's having," Robbe answers, distracted, eyes still unwavering as they bore into Sander's own.

"Well that was fucking hot," Sander says, breaking the tension once they were left alone again.

Robbe hums, smiling smugly as he leans his elbow against the table, propping his chin in his palm, eyes twinkling. "How so?" 

Sander does the same, leaning close over the small table, their faces a breath away. "Just you, staking claim."

Robbe's gaze drops to Sander's lips for a moment, before returning back to his eyes. "I can do better than that."

Sander licks his lips. "Yeah?"

He stutters out a breath when Robbe slowly glances the tip of his nose against his, pressing their mouths together in a kiss that's a touch inappropriate for such public seating.

They end up ordering their lunch to go. 

  
  


***

They're both lounging in bed, Robbe editing his daily video log, going through all the photos and videos he's taken, and Sander watches him work, leaning heavily against him. It's maybe the third or fourth video in, when Sander notices a pattern. 

"Why do you have so many videos of me just driving?"

It's very slight, the way Robbe's fingers freezes over the mouse pad for half a second, but Sander is trained in watching for the smallest twitch from Robbe, so he sees the falter, no matter how quickly Robbe recovers.

"Why do you have so many pictures of _me_?" Robbe counters, a deflection in Sander's book, especially the way Robbe is avoiding eye contact even through the black screen of his laptop.

He studies Robbe's side profile, sees the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows, aware of Sander's staring but trying to play it cool.

Why is he trying to play cool? It's not like it's new, him filming Sander doing the stupidest shit, and this is no different, most of the recordings are ten-second videos of just him staring straight ahead, unaware of the camera, a hand on the wheel while the other is either tucked under his thigh or resting on the gear stick. 

Sander's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline once he realises, can't help the way his voice rises in pitch, absolutely delighted. "Does me driving get you hot?"

Robbe groans, cheeks a touch red. "Ugh, do you ever shut up."

"That's not a no," he points out gleefully, sure his face looks fucking mental with how widely he's grinning. 

"It's not a no," Robbe grumbles. 

"That's okay, baby, I find you hot doing just about anything."

That pulls a smile on Robbe's face, cheek dimpling. He peers at Sander from the corner of his eye, promptly rolling his eyes when he sees the shit eating grin Sander directs at him, huffing and shaking his head. He waves a hand, gesturing for Sander to continue, his warm eyes glinting with mischief. 

"Keep talking."

"Oh _now_ you want me to keep talking," Sander feigns offense. "You only love me when I say nice things to you."

Robbe grabs him by the chin, tugging forwards to press their lips in a chaste kiss that catches Sander completely off guard. "I love you all the time," he corrects, voice a low whisper. 

Sander swoons, half jokingly, laying himself heavily on Robbe's lap — who barely has enough time to push his laptop aside. He wraps his arms around Robbe, holding onto his elbows to keep him in a tight embrace, and buries his nose into Robbe's stomach. He smiles when he feels fingers playing with his hair, peeking at Robbe from his perch, mouthing _I love you_ when he's sure the other is looking at him. 

Robbe strains his back as he bends down to reach him, his hand cradling Sander's face to tilt it towards his as he kisses him. He pulls back just so, smiling, before he leans in again, leaves kisses all over Sander's face, pausing in between to say _Love you too._

  
  


***

"You know how people go on these long trips to come back a changed person?" Sander starts, the boredom of watching asphalt for miles is getting to him. 

This is officially the longest they've been on the road, the drive to the camping site they're heading to is almost five hours away. When he first checked the route, he thought it'd be nothing, as long as they take lots of breaks, he should be fine. 

Obviously he'd overestimated his ability, like he always does, because three hours in and he's fighting off boredom and sleep.

"Or maybe they just wanna spend time with loved ones?" Robbe says, incredulous. Always on a mission to contradict every word he says because he's a smart ass.

He waves a dismissive hand. "How uninspiring."

Robbe snorts. 

"I'm going to make you, Mr IJzermans," Sander pauses dramatically. "A changed man."

"What?"

"By the end of this soul searching trip, you're gonna be able to drive this baby." Sander caresses the dashboard. 

"What are you—"

Sander turns to him with a grin. "I'm teaching you how to drive."

"No fucking way."

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you to _drive_.”

It takes very little to convince Robbe, a bit of pouting and whining in a low voice, and Sander finds himself on the passenger seat, Robbe clutching at the wheel like a lifeline. 

“Okay, break down the pedals for me,” he says, voice serious.

Robbe shoots him an unimpressed look, answers monotonously. “Gas, break, clutch.”

“If you wanna excel, you have to drop that attitude, young man.”

Robbe groans. “Sander, I swear if this is your ploy to play out one of your kinky role-plays...”

Sander clicks his tongue. He presses his lips into a thin line, trying to keep a poker face as he levels Robbe with a stern glare. “Repeat after me: I will not judge nor shame—”

Robbe lets out an exasperated sigh and repeats, “I will not judge nor shame.”

“Sander’s preferences, both sexual and non-sexual,”

“Sander’s preferences, both sexual and non-sexual.”

“No matter how weird it is—”

Robbe smirks. “So you agree that they’re weird.”

“I am a very self aware man, yes,” he concedes without missing a beat, then looks at Robbe expectantly.

“Ugh!” Robbe thumps his forehead against the steering, saying through clenched teeth. “No matter how weird it is.”

“And no matter how much it secretly turns me on—”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence because he’s hit in the face with the cushion from the backseat that Robbe had somehow managed to reach for in a split second.

They scuffle for a bit, shaking the car, yelling at each other to stop hitting even when they don’t. They come to a truce when Sander accidentally knees Robbe in the chin and bumps his own head on the window when Robbe starts attacking him with tickles.

Sander clears his throat, trying to keep a professional front. “Ignition, please.”

Robbe follows his instruction with a snort. He turns the key and the car wheezes before it rumbles into a purr.

Sander’s lips twitch at the pleased look on Robbe’s face. It’s the easiest part, yet Robbe looks so proud of himself, whipping his head to Sander for approval that he doesn't even have to think twice over. “Good job.”

Robbe rolls his shoulders “Okay, next?”

“Press on the clutch.”

“All the way?” 

“All the way,” Sander confirms, fighting off the smile at the look of sheer concentration on Robbe’s face. They’ve gone through this already, Sander has even demonstrated multiple times. And he can see the gears in Robbe’s head turning as he tries to remember what to do next.

When Robbe gives him a sheepish smile, Sander laughs softly, shaking his head but goes through the steps with him.

“Get into first gear.” 

Robbe pushes the gear stick to the left and forwards. Once Robbe puts off the handbrake, and he feels the car loosen up, he continues. 

“Right foot on gas,” he says, eyes watching Robbe’s feet like a hawk. “Now press gently.” He nods when Robbe gets it right. 

“Now.” Sander inhales. This is the tricky bit. He isn’t sure if he’s explained it well enough for Robbe to get it, but it’s now or never. “Slowly lift off the clutch.” 

But before Robbe could do as he’s told, Sander lays a firm hand on his left knee, stopping him. “Your leg is gonna shake a bit,” he quickly explains when Robbe frowns at him. “I’m helping you keep it steady.”

It's a testament to Robbe's nerves when he doesn't even roll his eyes at him or accuse Sander of making excuses just to touch him. Instead, all he does is nod.

“Okay.”

“Remember to keep the gas pedal steady when you lift the clutch,” Sander reminds him. “When you feel the car sort of lurch, then press more on the gas and ease off more on the clutch.”

Robbe’s frown deepens. “Okay.”

Robbe bites his lip as he tries to follow the steps as best as he could. Sander winces when the engine roars as Robbe keeps pressing on both the pedals, and in his panic, he lifts off the clutch too quickly, jolting the car forward. The engine screams when Robbe overcompensates on the gas, throwing them both back against the seat as the car lurches forward.

It isn’t the smoothest start, but at least they’re inching up the road, albeit jerkily.

“We’re moving!” Robbe cries excitedly, his grip on the wheel knuckle-white.

Sander laughs. “Well done.”

Once they’ve moved up a few metres and the car is screaming for a gear change, Sander pipes up. “Okay, gear change.”

And he goes through the steps again, Robbe diligently following his every word, changing gears, slowing down, braking. Despite his initial reluctance, Robbe isn’t doing so bad in his first driving lesson. Sander can’t help but be proud of him.

"You did really well, you know."

Robbe's hand hovers in the air, midway through unbuckling his seat belt, mouth falling open in surprise, before it morphs into a slow smile. He bites his lower lip, peering at him under his lashes.

"You're a great teacher." 

Sander’s heart stutters, eyes widen slightly at the implication.

"And you're an excellent student."

Sander is aware that they are in the middle of nowhere, with somewhere to be, but Robbe had said they could take as many breaks for as long as they want, and there's just them for miles — it's been just them for the past half an hour — and Robbe is looking at him in a way that has him feeling hot under the collar. 

He swallows, sees the way Robbe's eyes follow the movement of his throat, his teeth are still sunk into his lip. Sander watches raptly as the flesh is pinched white before it’s released, coming away wet and red. 

"Would you—" Sander licks his lips. "Would you like your reward then?"

Robbe is leaning on his side facing Sander, temple resting against the headrest as he quietly regards him, his hand running up and down the material of the belt that’s still strapped across his chest. When his hand pauses at the buckle, Sander holds his breath.

He can hear his heart beating a mile a minute, pumping blood to each and every part of his body, loud in his ears and the still air between them as he waits for Robbe’s response.

When it comes in the form of a nod and a coy smile, Sander exhales shakily. He pats his thighs twice and chokes out, “Come here.”

Robbe fumbles with the buckle of his seat belt, doesn’t even wait for the releasing click before he leans over the handbrake to get to Sander — straining the belt in his impatience — his free hand fists into Sander’s t-shirt to pull him in. Sander readily opens his mouth, licking into Robbe’s, his own fingers gripping at his curls, holding him close. 

The buckle finally gives and Robbe falls forward when the belt no longer holds his weight, reeling back with a loud swoosh and snapping the window with a loud clunk.

Unbothered and now free, Robbe clambers over onto Sander’s lap. Sander holds him steady, eyelids fluttering when he feels fingers sinking into his hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp. He tips his head back, sighing when Robbe fits their lips together in a sweet kiss.

Sander fits his hands against Robbe’s waist, his fingers fanning out and meeting at the small of his back, pulling him closer for a deeper kiss. It’s all tongues and soft bites, both too eager to have each other any which way they can.

Robbe pulls back for a breath, lips glistening, eyes locked on Sander’s as he stretches his arms, holding onto the backrest of Sander’s seat, and rocks against him gently. Sander squeezes his side, encouraging him to do it again, sighing when Robbe complies.

It’s not ideal, doing this in the car, with the too cramped space, but it’s also one of his many fantasies about Robbe. He lies back, watches closely to the way Robbe grows visibly harder in his pants, straining against the fabric as he keeps rubbing against Sander’s thigh.

And Sander can’t help it, presses a hand to the front of Robbe’s shorts, breathes a delirious _fuck yeah_ when Robbe rocks against his palm, desperate for any touch. He moans when he feels the fabric dampen, telling Robbe to keep going, completely entranced at the effect he has on his boyfriend.

Robbe presses his hands flat against Sander’s chest, lowers them enough so he can flick his thumbs against his nipples, back and forth, until Sander is panting, arching up for more. 

Robbe grapples at the hem of his t-shirt, one hand pushing it upwards and holding it up over Sander’s torso, the other resting on the seat, holding his weight as he leans forward, running the flat of his tongue against Sander’s nipple. 

Sander hums when Robbe swirls his tongue around the nub, flicking the tip of his tongue against it until it peaks. He lets out a loud moan when he feels teeth pulling, sucking and licking until he’s writhing, fingers tangling in soft curls. He tugs harshly on them, pulling Robbe up for a heated kiss, sucking on his tongue.

Robbe pulls back, looking like a man on a mission as he arches his back, leaning down to litter kisses down Sander’s chest, down to the planes of his stomach, shuffling backwards as he gets lower before dropping to his knees. He pulls at Sander’s waistband, both shorts and boxers down to his knees once Sander’s lifted up his ass to help him. 

Sander bites his lip when Robbe takes him into his mouth, eyes closed as he sucks on the head and moans. He hooks his thumb at the corner of Robbe’s mouth, breath hitching when Robbe opens wider and takes him in even further before pulling back, leaving trails of spit along his length, and goes back to lapping at his tip. 

He could do this all day, sit there and watch as Robbe indulges him, fingers fisting at the base of his dick to hold him steady, and playing with the tip with his tongue, swirling over the head before dipping into his slit, lapping up any beads of precum leaking. Loves when Robbe pulls back to swallow his spit with a gasp and leaves his mouth open just for him to see, lets him feed his dick into it, thrusting in and out.

“Fuck,” Sander breathes, voice thick as he marvels at the way he slides in and out of Robbe’s mouth. He pulls out completely, letting himself rest against Robbe’s cheek. Sighs when Robbe presses small kisses all over from the base to just below the head, tongue peeking out to rub all around the ridge.

Sander wraps his fingers around Robbe’s neck in a gentle hold, feels his throat bobbing as he swallows, the other hand holding himself steady, and he waits for Robbe to look up at him before he says, voice rough. “Stick your tongue out.”

He curses again when Robbe does just that, eyes hooded when Sander taps his hard dick against it before sliding slowly against the rough pads of his tongue. It doesn’t take long for Robbe to get impatient, though, whining high at the back of his throat before he closes his lips around him and sinks his mouth lower. 

Robbe doesn’t go all the way, sucks from tip to about half of his length, before going back to where he started, repeats. And Sander knows he’s doing it on purpose, lets him have his fun before he tangles both hands into the back of his neck, pulling him forward when he pauses halfway through again. 

“Come on, you can take more than that.” 

Robbe glares at him, inhaling through his nose as he pushes forward, lips stretched wide around him as he takes more of him in, until Sander can feel himself hit the back of Robbe’s throat. He throws his head back, mouth falling open in harsh breaths as he feels Robbe swallowing around him, can’t help but pull at Robbe’s hair, wanting him closer, pushing his hips deeper. Robbe’s answering moan, muffled against his dick sends a shiver up his spine, ripping a long drawn out moan from his throat. “Fuck.”

Robbe pulls off with a wet gasp, coughing slightly. Sander pulls him up and licks into his mouth, tasting himself on Robbe’s tongue; fingers tangled in Robbe’s hair, leaving a trail of kisses against his neck and whispering praises. Robbe melts into him, sighing every time Sander presses wet kisses against his skin, arms hanging off Sander’s shoulders, already at the point where he’s lost coherence, letting Sander do whatever he pleases.

Twisting his arm over to the backseat where some of their bags lay, Sander pats his hand blindly for the lube he knows is in one of them, grunting at the effort. Robbe pulls back, watching him struggle but not helping, an amused smirk on his face.

He’s about to complain, when he notices Robbe reaching for the glove compartment behind him and brandishes a bottle of lube, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Now, how did that get there?” 

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Sander takes off Robbe’s pants. He’s about to pluck the bottle out of Robbe’s hand, but he pulls it out of reach.

Because Robbe can’t pass at a chance to tease him, he makes a show of squirting too much lube into his palm, all the while keeping his gaze locked on Sander. He curls his palm into a fist and fits it over Sander’s dick, slicking him up in languid strokes. Once he deems it’s enough, he shuffles forward on his knees and sinks down onto him.

They both sigh when Sander pushes inside, letting out low moans as Robbe takes him in slowly, up to the hilt. Sander wraps his arms around Robbe, holding him close and dropping kisses to his shoulder, tries to keep his hips still, drunk on the feeling of Robbe pulsing around him as he adjusts to him.

It’s quiet as they both take each other in, Sander running his palms soothingly up and down Robbe’s back, Robbe with his face tucked into his neck, mewling softly. And Robbe stays where he is, rolling his forehead and pressing it against Sander’s neck as he rocks against him.

It’s clear that Robbe isn’t going to do much more than rocking back and forth, the way he can barely lift his hips, so Sander lifts his hips up and off him.

Robbe whines, tightening his arms around his shoulders, refusing to let go.

Sander laughs softly, tapping at his ass to lift up. When Robbe refuses still, Sander bites onto his shoulder gently. “Come on, baby, backseat.”

It takes some careful maneuvering before they’ve both safely crossed to the back, Robbe slumping against the seat, legs spread out as he lazily strokes himself. 

Sander kneels in front of him, runs the palms of his hands over Robbe’s thighs, before he hooks them under his knees and pushes his thighs against his chest, folding Robbe almost in half. He kisses the insides of those thighs, nipping at the skin. When he gets to Robbe’s crotch, he pushes his hand away, sucking him into his mouth right down to the base, Robbe’s loud moan ringing beautifully in his ears, echoing in the confined space around them.

He bobs his head up and down the length for a bit before he pulls off with a pop. Presses kisses against Robbe’s stomach, licking and biting as he goes up to his chest. He trails his tongue against the line of Robbe’s neck and nips at his chin, moaning low in his throat when his tongue scrapes over the stubble that’s grown there.

Sander leans his forehead against Robbe’s jaw, pressing stray kisses as he murmurs, “Hold yourself open.”

Instead of spreading himself by the knees like Sander expected him to, Robbe reaches down to knead at his own ass, knowing that he’s watching. He sinks his fingers into the flesh and spreads them open.

Sander rests against his haunches, touching himself as he watches Robbe doing the same, fingers sliding against the cleft, rubbing circles over his rim and tapping at it gently, lip bitten red as his eyes grow heavier by the second.

Reaching for lube, Sander dribbles a generous amount down between Robbe’s ass, straight from the bottle, delighting in the way Robbe gasps at the cold, and tosses it aside. He presses a hand on the back of Robbe’s thigh, the other holding his dick between his ass, sliding against it, spreading the lube liberally.

Robbe is watching the way he slides against him, mouth slightly ajar, eyes fluttering shut when the tip catches against the puckered skin of his rim. His eyes are wild as he looks at him, wide eyes flitting between their legs and back to Sander’s face.

“Sander—”

That’s all he needs to hear, pushing in in one steady thrust, a groan rumbling low from his throat as he feels Robbe flutter around him, squeezing in pulses as he chokes on a moan.

Sander exhales slowly, spreading Robbe wider, can’t seem to get enough of what he’s seeing. He pulls out slowly, heart hammering at the sight of Robbe quivering against him, stretched wide to accommodate him, and pauses when just the tip is inside; Robbe whines, clawing at his wrist and forearm, begging for him to move. Sander pushes back in, just as slowly, savouring the drag of his dick against Robbe’s walls, taking him in easily. 

“ _Fuck_ , baby,” Sander leans forward, bracing his chest against the backs of Robbe’s thighs until they’re nose to nose. He closes his eyes, sighing. “You should see yourself like this.” Sander peers down to see himself sliding in and out of Robbe, swallowing Robbe’s soft moans into a kiss that’s all tongue. 

Robbe throws an arm over his head, holding onto the rear deck to brace himself, other hand gripping onto the edge of the seat as Sander starts snapping his hips into a steady rhythm. Their moans are drowned into open mouthed kisses, loud in the heated space between them.

Right as Sander’s found the right pace, they’re both panting, wanting to go harder, he loses his grip, his sweaty hands can’t seem to get a good leverage no matter where he plants them.

Sander straightens, giving his back a break from all the bending over. Robbe doesn’t seem too comfortable either, but he doesn’t seem to want to move any time soon, panting and looking at him through his long lashes.

“Kinda tricky, huh?” He grins when Robbe laughs, the flat of his stomach fluttering. 

He pulls at Robbe’s jelly arms, urging him to sit up, maneuvering him to turn around, facing the window. Sander shuffles forward, pressing his front to Robbe’s sweaty back, doesn’t stop until he has Robbe flush against the corner of the seat, knees pressing against the door.

Sander runs a palm down the arch of his back, pressing firmly against his tail bone as he pulls on his hip with the other, pushing inside once again. Robbe leans forward, resting his arm and forehead against the window, his sigh fogging up the glass. 

And it’s an image Sander never knew he needed to see, he twitches, growing harder, and Robbe’s breath hitch. 

He kneads at Robbe's ass, pulling the flesh to see better where they're joined. As he pulls out slowly, Sander watches Robbe's reaction through his reflection, his face lax, mouth falling open in a silent gasp, before it's pinched in pleasure when he snaps his hips forward, their skin slapping loudly, broken moans spilling out as he continues in that same pace.

Robbe lets out a frustrated groan when Sander slips again, his knee falling off the seat, making him slip out. Robbe thumps his forehead against the window, eyes closed as he takes deep steadying breaths. 

He pulls away from the window, laying his head down on the fabric of the seat, ass high, supporting his entire weight on his shoulders.

Sander leans over him, dropping kisses over his spine, winding his arms around Robbe. "Okay?"

There's a smile on Robbe's face, hand touching his in assurance as he hums. "I just want you to come."

Sander smirks. "You want it that bad?"

Robbe shakes with exasperated laughter, feigning a breathy moan. "Fuck yeah, give it to me."

Sander hugs him tighter as he leans his head against the curve of his back, muffling his laugh against it. Robbe dissolving into a fit of giggles.

They both quiet once the wave of amusement passes, exhaling gently.

Robbe nudges at him to move, and Sander does; setting up a brutal pace, pulling Robbe back as he pushes forward, this time determined to see the end of it. Pounding into him relentlessly, rocking the car with their fucking. 

Static starts to fill his ears, numbing, as they're filled with the intoxicating sounds of skin slapping, soft moans that morph into loud drawn out ones, reverberating off the wall of the car, an endless loop of feedback, making him grow dizzy with his impending release. 

He sees Robbe's hand shooting in between his legs, pulling at his own dick desperately, before he feels the familiar clench around him. Robbe squeezes around him tighter, the only noise coming out of his mouth is gibberish noise as he chases his release. Sander grows just as desperate, slumping forward, plastering his chest to Robbe, arm winding tightly around him, nails raking against the twitching muscles of his lower stomach, wanting to feel it when Robbe comes. 

His thrusts become sloppy, he licks and bites at Robbe's shoulder, murmuring against the skin, telling him to come, and at one particular hard thrust, Robbe freezes completely, back bowed as he shoots against the seat.

Sander's vision whites at how tight Robbe is clenching around him, and then he's groaning, hips erratic as he pumps one last time, vaguely registering Robbe's soft encouraging moans, and spills inside him. Humming when Robbe pulses around him to milk out every last drop of his orgasm. 

When he comes to, Sander pulls out gently, rubbing his fingers against Robbe's hips in a soothing manner. Robbe gasps at the feeling, oversensitive, and curls up on his side, mindful of his own mess. 

Sander leans down to kiss him, sighing when Robbe opens his mouth. They kiss languidly, limbs wrapping around each other awkwardly not wanting to separate just yet. 

Sander pulls away with a loud laugh when Robbe accidentally knees him in the side, rests his temple against Robbe's hip and traces patterns on the skin. Robbe reciprocates his touch, his fingers massaging against his scalp. 

Robbe snorts, and Sander looks up at him curiously. 

"We really did have car sex."

Sander grins, waggling his brows at him. "Told you I'd make a changed man out of you."

Robbe rolls his eyes, but doesn't protest. In fact he caresses his thumb against the shell of Sander's ear, a soft smile on his lips as he does so. 

***

"Are you _absolutely_ sure?"

Sander rolls his eyes. "Yes, I am absolutely sure. In fact you can see for yourself."

He gestures towards the spot where Robbe had jacked off on and had been anxiously agonising over for the past hour. 

Robbe studies it, eyes critical. 

"It's spotless," Sander insists. "No thanks to you by the way."

"You said it was my reward." Robbe raises a brow, daring him to say otherwise. 

Sander shakes his head, smiling fondly. "Brat."

***

Sander is going back and forth between two spots, one that’s facing the mountain range and one that’s facing the charming little village, shoulders drooping as they are weighed down by all their luggage.

“Just pick a damn spot already,” Robbe grumbles. He’s also struggling to keep his balance, hands full with their camping gear.

Sander holds up a finger to shush him. “You can’t rush perfection, baby.”

“Well my arm's about to fall off if you don’t find perfection soon, asshole.”

Sander turns to face his grumpy boyfriend, clicks his tongue. “You just got dicked and this is how you repay me.”

The reaction is immediate, it's comical; Robbe’s face blooms red, his eyes widen as he whips his head behind him to check if anyone has heard them. Sander smirks, let’s Robbe splutter for a few seconds before finally deciding on the spot facing the mountains, dropping their stuff where he stands.

Once he’s done being embarrassed, Robbe tosses a bag at him, which Sander isn’t too keen on catching, letting it hit his side and plop to the ground. “Get that started,” Robbe orders, then goes about setting up their tent.

Sander is tasked with inflating the air mattress. He connects it to the portable pump and lets it do its job, pumping up air into their bed for the next two nights. When Sander is about to stand up and go help Robbe, he’s confronted with a bit of a crowd; the noise from the pump has attracted all the small children, who are gathered around the slowly inflating mattress, watching it with rapt attention.

“What’s that,” one boy asked.

“That’s an air mattress.”

“What’s it for?”

“For sleeping, of course.”

There’s a collective _oohs_ before another kid pipes up, pointing to a tent far off on the other side. “We’ve only got sleeping bags.”

“Well, kids,” Sander says, turning off the pump once the mattress is filled out. He makes a show of sitting on it, grins at them when he bounces. “You’re missing out.”

The children all scamper back to their parents, screaming _I want one too_ , and Sander snickers.

“And there we have,” Robbe says, suddenly. Sander turns towards him, only to realise he’s being filmed. “A man child interacting with actual children.”

Sander grins and flips him off.

They make quick work pitching up the tent, Robbe showing Sander what to do, and sure enough, after five minutes they have a sturdy looking shelter. The problem arises when they want to lay the mattress inside.

“Uh...” They both say, looking at the door of the tent and the width of the mattress, which is definitely a lot wider.

“Maybe we should’ve put it inside first before filling it up,” Robbe says, a sheepish smile on his face.

Sander shrugs. He pulls onto the door flap, using his free hand to clutch the mattress and gets ready to push it inside.

“You can’t just shove it in there,” Robbe protests, even when he’s already pulling on the other side of the door, making it wider.

“I can and I will.” He huffs, pushing, managing to get a third of the mattress in when he hears a sickening sound of fabric ripping, accompanied by Robbe’s gasp. 

He pauses. He stretches over the tent to see any tears, grinning triumphantly at Robbe when he realises it was just the velcro strap, and continues wiggling the mattress in until it lays inside, snugly fitting into the floor of their tent.

“There, no big deal,” Sander says, throwing himself onto it, and sighs happily.

Robbe laughs softly, shaking his head, before he too crawls onto the mattress, tucking himself against Sander. “We could’ve just deflated it and pump it again, you know.”

Sander hums, running absent fingers over Robbe’s shoulder. “Then those pesky kids would come over again. _Curious._ ”

"You don't like kids, duly noted."

"They just never stop talking," he complains. "And they ask too many questions."

"Annoying," Robbe agrees. 

They lie there, staring at the small window on the roof of the tent, through the mesh, Sander can make out the clouds above. Their bags are still outside and they need to finish setting their gear up but this is nice.

There's a small stream that runs by the campside and it's all he can hear, until an ear-splitting screech cuts through the air, followed by loud laughter. 

Sander sighs. "Devil's spawn."

The mattress trembles with Robbe's soft giggles, muffled against his neck. He traces circles over the back of Sander's hand that's resting on his stomach. 

"Does that mean kids are off the table for us?"

It's a whisper, so soft that Sander would've missed it if he hadn't been listening to Robbe's breathing. He feels the way Robbe stiffens, like he hadn't meant to say that out loud. 

He pulls Robbe closer, kisses him on the forehead and waits until he relaxes before asking, "You want kids?"

Robbe shrugs. "Not really, no."

"Me too."

Silence. 

Sander peers down his chest, all he sees is brown curls spilling all over it, and bends down to bury his nose in them. "D'you think I'd be a good dad?"

Even before his diagnosis, being a parent isn't something Sander has ever considered, more so now. He's immensely grateful to have his mother and Robbe, understanding and patient, steadfast in their gentle loving, but willingly subjecting an unsuspecting child to his reality is just plain cruel. 

He still can't help but wonder. 

Robbe lifts his head, dislodging Sander as he does, and looks him straight in the eyes, gaze unwavering as he digs his nails into Sander's knuckles. "You'd make a great dad."

Sander smiles, knowing Robbe would say that, not because it's what he wants to hear but because Robbe truly believes that. He kisses him, a silent thank you.

"No kids, though," he says again once he pulls away, just in case Robbe gets any funny idea. 

"No kids," Robbe agrees, snuggling into him. "You're already a handful."

Sander laughs, can't help but agree. 

  
  


***

Hiking in a beat up converse is not fun, Sander would know, yet here they are, once again trudging through steep grounds. He’d never have pegged himself as a nature boy, and Robbe had teased him mercilessly when he caught him staring longingly at the mountains back at their camp area, but there’s something so addictive about being surrounded by trees and coming across little gems nature has to offer, despite being half-dead on his feet.

He smells it even before he sees it, the earthy, slightly pungent smell of water. Sure enough, hidden between the fir trees is an expansive lake that is blessedly empty.

“Oh wow,” Robbe breathes behind him. “I thought you were shitting when you said there were lakes.”

Sander drops his bag onto a protruding root and toes off his converse. He hears rustling from somewhere next to him, beaming when he sees Robbe undressing too, his eyes stuck on the dark surface of the lake, mesmerized.

When Sander slides off his boxers, he hears Robbe sigh. 

“What is it with you and being naked in public.”

Sander stands stark naked, hands on his hips, and grins when Robbe just rolls his eyes at him. 

“It’s liberating.”

Robbe shakes his head in defeat, but shucks off his own boxers anyway, not without grumbling of course. “One of these days I’d find myself bailing you out for public indecency.” Robbe inches to the edge of the water, his toes scrunching up against the damp soil, deliberating. “Are you sure this is safe to swim?”

“Less thinking, more doing,” Sander replies, jumping in the water to Robbe’s ‘ _Sander, fucking wait_ — _!’_ It’s a faster way of finding out if it’s safe or not.

And it’s completely safe, he yells exactly that at Robbe once he resurfaces, grinning when he sees Robbe’s half-hearted glare, ruined by his own smile.

And like always, Robbe jumps in right after.

***

  
  


That night, they’ve both managed to make a bonfire — well, Robbe did while Sander cheered him on — gathering some of the other campers. They make conversation, speaking in whatever broken language that they have in common, and show off each other’s talents.

Sander gets an elbow to the side when he volunteers Robbe’s impressive talent of breathing fire, which immediately has everyone excited, except for the parents. Robbe doesn’t do a live demo, much to his dismay, but he does show videos of him doing it to the others.

And it’s not like he’s blind, completely aware of the way the campers skirt around the nature of their relationship. He sees one of the girls looking at them curiously, eyeing the way he and Robbe are sat pressed together, from thigh to shoulder. It’s not like they’re making a conscious decision to be obvious or otherwise.

It’s when he’s showing them one of his paintings that things get a bit awkward. People are crowding in on him to look at his screen, so Robbe curls himself tighter into him to avoid being crushed, almost sprawled on his lap. Sander taps out of the picture, revealing his camera roll that’s filled with him and Robbe.

The air stills as everyone stares at his screen before it fades to black.

“Well that explains a lot,” one of the guys, Thomas, says, sounding amused, breaking the tension in an instant.

Sander snorts. “We’re two dudes travelling together, why’d you expect something else.”

Robbe pinches him, embarrassed, but Sander can feel the immediate effect it has on him, more pliant as he lies there playing with the seams of Sander’s shorts.

“I was kinda ready to punch a bitch,” Robbe confesses that night, as they settle into bed.

Sander feels a squeeze in his chest, immensely proud of Robbe. A year ago, he’d have curled in on himself whenever there’s potential backlash to them being open. He kisses him on the cheek. “And I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

  
  


***

  
  


Sander attributes his exhaustion to the drive and the subsequent hike, his limbs sting despite sleeping on the air mattress, and he doesn’t understand why he’s being shaken awake.

“Sander, wake up,” Robbe whispers, urgent. He almost sounds excited.

He garbles out a response, not even sure what it is that he’s trying to say but it doesn’t really matter because Robbe is already filling him in.

“Listen.”

Groggily, he blinks his eyes open, adjusting them to the dark. He frowns when he sees the whites of Robbe’s teeth. He wants to ask what’s so funny when he hears it; a rustling from a neighbouring tent, and then a soft gasp that’s been muffled in vain, followed by a strained moan.

Sander groans loudly, flicking off Robbe’s hand that’s attempting to cover his mouth to hush him. He rolls over to his other side, obnoxiously loud as he lets out another groan pushing his pillow against his ear to drown out the noise. 

If he’s not the one having loud sex with Robbe, he’s not interested. He notes with satisfaction how the noises have completely stopped; he has successfully ruined the mood, which means he can go back to sleeping in peace.

***

They spend the next day finding as many lakes as they can and taking a dip in every one they find, except for the one that smelled too much like rotten egg. They go through the woods, taking pictures of meadows and brooks, sinking their feet in the cool shallow waters.

Sander found out through the tourist office, just over the road from their campsite, that the locals serve some mean food. He googles for places and manages to convince Robbe to eat at least proper food that’s cooked over fire instead of instant noodles and cold sandwiches. 

They end the day with their stomach stuffed full. Sander is leaning back on his hands, legs spread out in front of him, breathing in slowly to make sure the food stays down. He stares up at the purple night sky, marvels at the tiny white spots of stars splashed all about.

“This is a perfect spot to propose,” he points out. 

Robbe tilts his head to take in the scenery too, humming.

“Are you going to propose, then?”

“Wait, let me google for a white tesla for rental,” he feigns reaching for his phone in his pocket.

Robbe laughs, resting his head against him with a sigh. “I’d say yes however you choose to do it, anyway.”

Sander hesitates, slowly looking down at Robbe, who’s smiling to himself.

They joke about it a lot, living together, proposing and getting married, having kids, but Sander always chalks it off as Robbe just indulging him with his elaborate daydreams. He’s never quite sure if Robbe takes him seriously or not, even though Sander always means it.

He swallows down the sudden nerves, hands starting to grow sweaty, clutching a handful of grass to keep calm.

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m serious.” Robbe replies, resolute. _“I’ll_ propose, if you want.”

He sits up a bit straighter, leans closer to catch Robbe’s eyes that are still fixed on the stars. “You’d want that?”

Sander’s heart is hammering, willing for Robbe to just _look_ at him, stuttering when he finally does, and it’s like Robbe had stolen all the stars in the sky with the way his eyes glisten. 

“I want everything with you, Sander,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, like he’s making sure only Sander hears it. “Everything.”

It’s so easy for his brain to trick him into sprillaing into a vortex of dark thoughts, but at this moment, it’s quiet and all he hears is Robbe’s undying devotion in those words, all he sees is Robbe, looking at him like he’d hung those exact same stars they’ve been staring at.

Robbe inches his fingers towards his, brushing them over his knuckles. “Okay?”

There’s not enough words to describe how he feels for Robbe, and he’s at a loss for them at the moment, so he does the next best thing he knows. 

He cradles Robbe’s face in his hands, feels his heart ache when Robbe nuzzles against his palm, and leans in, brushing a soft kiss high against his cheek. He rests his forehead there, sighing. Robbe’s breath is warm against his skin, his fingers gripping tightly on his t-shirt.

“I love you.”

Sander doesn’t wait for Robbe’s reply, already knows what his answer would be, pressing his lips against Robbe’s and pours everything he isn’t able to form into words into the kiss. 

He presses his thumbs against the hollow of Robbe’s cheek, feels a bit wild when Robbe lets his mouth fall open. Sander laps at Robbe’s tongue, fitting his own against Robbe’s and sucks, earning a soft whine. He runs his tongue over the roof of Robbe’s mouth, against his cheeks, and back to his tongue, licks every crevice that he can reach, undecided. All he knows is to taste and take, knowing that it’s welcomed and appreciated.

Robbe is making all these little noises that are driving Sander crazy, licking and sucking in response, just as greedy.

Sander pulls away with a gasp, their lips parting in a loud wet noise. 

“Fuck.” Robbe buries his face against his neck, his breath shaky. “I love you so much.”

They spend their last night there wrapped up in each other, kissing and whispering _I love yous_ against every spot they deem requires love and attention.

  
  


***

  
  


The rest of the week is spent driving through the alps, and staying at cheap Airbnbs, dreaming about staying in five-star hotels, eating luxury cuisines. 

They dream about spending the whole of summer together at a vacation spot every year, promising each other they'd spend every summer together whether it's at a luxury hotel or back at home. 

The road is empty at night, the only thing accompanying Sander's drive is his playlist and the occasional snores from Robbe. 

He peers over at the boy now fast asleep next to him, a fleece blanket draped over his front. 

Sander slows down the car when he sees a layby up ahead, parking the car. He leaves the headlights on, unbuckles his seatbelt and lies on his side, facing Robbe. 

He contemplates on taking a picture, but decides against it, soaking him in just like this. Takes in his long lashes, fluttering as his eyes move rapidly behind closed lids, dreaming about something. Reaches over to trace a finger over the slope of his nose, smiling when Robbe scrunches up in his sleep, down to the bow of his lips.

It takes a few minutes before he hears the telltale sound of Robbe's inhales getting longer and deeper, until he takes a deep breath in, holds it, and exhales when his eyes blink open, disoriented but soften immediately when they land on him. 

"Hey," he says, voice gruff. He stretches, sighing as he looks around the empty road. "Where are we?

"Don't know," Sander says, smiling when Robbe tilts his head, looking at him with that curious look he gets when he's trying to figure something out. 

He finds something on Sander's face, he always does, even when Sander himself isn't sure what it is, lips stretching into a tender smile as he snuggles back into his seat. 

"Wanna sleep together?" He asks instead. 

Sander nods, letting Robbe heave himself across the backseat first before he follows suit. Robbe waiting for him with his arms wide open. 

It's a tight fit, but they've been saving money sleeping like this, and it's comfortable only because it's them. Sander tucks his face into Robbe's neck, warm from his sleep, and breathes him in.

Tomorrow morning they'll be back in Antwerp and this will all be behind them, until they do it again the next year, and the year after. 

**Author's Note:**

> the places they went were based on real locations but i decided not to mention them because it's the journey that matters, baby, not the destination
> 
> anyway writing this was a constant battle of self-restraint, but i was specifically told to 'go full @noobishere with it' (in all caps) so this is the result. if it's trash and you hate it, then uhm, keep it to yourself lol i'm emotionally fragile
> 
> edit: also let's just pretend little things is sung by ed sheeran because i'm a fucking dumbass


End file.
